


The Festival of Three

by Avana



Series: Various - Scraps [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Competition between three friends, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, may need more tags later, may need more warnings later, varied characters and pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avana/pseuds/Avana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songs and prompts galore. This was originally a competition between friends but maybe some of these will inspire other people's muses. Bon Appétit</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Expect erratic updates. Anything not written by me is marked and the pen names are from fanfiction. xXAnimeXXRevolutionXx is my fanfiction pen name.

Day 1 Round 1 Challenge: Put your itunes library on shuffle and listen to the song that plays. Use said song to write a piece in 15 minutes.

Hannibal sat at the head of his dinning table the long expanse of it stretched down into the shadows of the other side of the room. He could feel the static in the air of an oncoming storm. It prickled across the back of his neck. A single inhale brought the sharp scent of electricity and the smoothness of moisture from the currents drifting in from the window.

The charged atmosphere felt wonderfully appropriate. The storm was just waiting. He was just waiting.

And as he was waiting he reflected on the one thing that had been on his mind more often than not, Will Graham.

He was a peculiar little oddity that just happened to fall into his waiting arms.

Hannibal would admit if only to himself that he did not think much of Will upon first meeting him. It was one of the few first impressions of his that would ever be proven wrong. He thought the man was fragile, breakable, unique in his supposed gifts but only just.

Oh, but Will proved him wrong. The man was fragile but in the most beautiful way. Every case he watched as the man teetered back and forth on a knife's edge. Sometimes the man fell only to grip the blade and hang there from bleeding palms.

The more Hannibal interacted with Will the more he yearned to peel back the layers and layers of flesh, strip the man to his bones, and pick every neuron of his sweetly, swelling brain.

Will, the man that was so pure in his intent but so dangerously volatile. Hannibal had never seen a mind that fought to protect itself so fiercely that it destroyed itself.

A streak of lightening split the sky and the rumbles of thunder followed quickly on its heels. Hannibal gracefully rose from his seat practically prowling toward the shadows at the end of his table.

The dim lights only just caught the flash of the linoleum knife he wielded in his hand.

Yes layer by layer, neuron by neuron he'd unravel Will to his core.

A dark smirk curled at the corners of his lips and rain finally fell against the windows.

The song that inspired this piece was: Strangeness and Charm - Florence and the Machine

(xXAnimeXXRevolutionXx)

Eight year old Will Graham look uncertainly between a bouquet of poinsettias and a nice scented candle. Will wanted to pick the best present for his Mom that he could and Daddy said Will was big enough to pick something out all by himself.

His Dad didn't want to leave Will alone though so he was at the store down the street with Tony. Tony was Will's new puppy, his dad had gotten the docile mutt as his sons first pet because Will had trouble making friends.

Tony was named after Tony Stark because Iron Man was Will's favorite super hero. He was a normal person who stopped crime and saved lives but was never scared. He was even really good at dealing with people. Iron Man was never scared of getting lost in someone's head if he looked them in the eye.

Will shook his head, curls flying. He really had to pick out a Christmas present! Will really wanted to get both since that would make him Mom the happiest but he didn't have enough money.

"Hey there, William. What are you doing?"

Will whipped around, shoulders hunching up. "H-hi Mr. Renolds. I-I'm p-picking out a p-present for my mom."

The man smiled sympathetically at the young boy, "Oh? and what have you picked out?"

Will fixated on Mr. Renolds chin so he wouldn't have to look him in the eye, "I-I really like the f-flowers and the c-candle but I c-cant-"

"Too much?" Will nodded slightly, now looking at his shoes.

"Tell you what," Mr. Renolds said," you pay for as much as you can and I'll make up the difference.

Will tried to protest, he didn't want to be rude or a burden, but the friendly man would have none of it.  
After paying Will stammered out a thank you, still careful not to make eye contact, and hurried down to where his father was. Gifts clutched close to his chest as he tried not to look at anyone on the street.

That evening Will, his father, and Tony the dog left the bouquet of flowers and the candle at the grave of a dearly missed wife and mother in the local cemetery.

The song that inspired this piece was: The Christmas Shoes - Newsong

(Haiogh-Yai)

Their voices haunt her, fill her dreams. Not a night goes by that she doesn't see them, doesn't relive them. She was never there for the killings, but it was her job to prepare them. To lure them in for the slaughter.

Friends. They could have been friends. They were, for a short while.

She did her job well. She always had. Daddy's perfect little girl. Daddy's perfect, deadly little angel. This will be no different. She can never be an angel, she doesn't deserve it. But perhaps in her end, they will find comfort.

It will be easier this way, she knows it will.

Peace at last. Silence.

It's all she wants, now.

Closing her eyes, she steps from the stool, and with the sickening crack of snapping bone, the voices fall silent at last.

The song that inspired this piece was: The Lonely - Christina Perri

(Mindful Demon)

Winner: xXAnimeXXRevolutionXx

Votes:

xXAnimeXXRevolutionXx: Mindful Demon

Haiogh-Yai: xXAnimeXXRevolutionXx

Mindful Demon: xXAnimeXXRevolutionXx

Please note that because of time constraints there are probably some errors. I did a quick edit but there are probably still some mistakes.


	2. Intermission: The Clarissa Ship

"The lambs they were screaming. I tried…I tried to save one… but" Here her voice faltered, her last whisper barely heard, "I can still hear them…"

Marissa's eyes fluttered shut as her fingers brushed the fabric of her scarf and lingered over an old scar.

"No, the screaming never stops."

"But sometimes…" Marissa's eyes opened again and she stared at a distant point on the horizon, "…sometimes the screams get quieter."

"How?" Clarice half demanded. It had never gotten quieter for her. If anything they had gotten louder so she ran. She ran until she fell, and then she screamed. She screamed hoping to drown out the voices of the ghosts that followed her.

Marissa turned her gaze back to Clarice. Her fingers returned to massaging the old scar on her neck. She didn't answer.

Clarice looked furious for several long moments. She took a deep breath not sure if she wanted to shout something, but then she stopped the air rushing back out. This whole time they were talking. She never even realized but…it was quiet.

She locked her confused eyes with Marissa's. Tentatively a spark of hope lit itself. Marissa looked back at her blankly, but her lip twitched upward ever so slightly.

They stood in silence together.

All they could hear was the breath that whispered from their lips, the quiet thrum of their blood running beneath their skin, and the steady pulse of their beating hearts.

The moment was shattered.

Clarice cringed as the murmurs started to rise from the depths of her mind. Marissa looked on from her spot a few feet away.

A quiet sigh slipped past her lips and she unwound the black scarf looped around her throat.

Clarice startled as she found herself enveloped in the fabric. It was warm and smelt faintly of cinnamon. The murmurs retreated again and Clarice looked up at Marissa a quiet gratitude in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The scar on Marissa's neck alludes to a friend's headcanon.
> 
> "Marissa's apparent love for scarves stems from the scars on her neck, the result of a failed suicide attempt when she was thirteen due to her father's alcoholism and her mother's neglect. This failed attempt is what originated her mother's obsessive tendencies, and is one of the many reasons Marissa is so thoroughly angered by said tendencies - they are a constant reminder to her that only when she was near death did her mother express any interest in being a part of her life."
> 
> Clarissa ship inspired by tumblr


End file.
